


Styrian Cold Fronts

by blv



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5054239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blv/pseuds/blv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know that crawling into bed with your roommate every night is probably a bad idea. But the winters in Styria are so cold, and she is so damn warm. And attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time you slept with your roommate was a complete accident, you swear. You came home maybe more than a little drunk from your night out with your friend (being the only child of an overly protective father was both a blessing and a curse — your low alcohol tolerance had proven to be both over the years). You crawled into bed noting that your favorite pillow that your incredibly obnoxious roommate with the incredibly amazing body (you’d work on your insults later, after a hangover-curing breakfast) always stole was back in its rightful place and totally warm. She probably returned it recently. Christ, it was so warm.

You woke with a bleary start when you recognize your dream about the pillow shifting and now miraculously having arms turned into a very real nightmare. Especially when the pillow talked. 

“Jesus, Cupcake, if you wanted to sleep with me you could’ve asked.” 

You are beyond mortified to realize that you drunkenly ended up in your roommate’s bed, and oh, that’s why that wall seemed so much closer last night. 

You scramble to your side of the room, in time to catch her say, “Hey, I’m not complaining. You know how the winters are here.”

You avoid her for the rest of the week. 

\---------------------------------------------

The second time you sleep with your roommate, you have yet to acknowledge the extremely awkward encounter when you notice her watching ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ in her bed with headphones on. You become extremely interested (since when does your pretentious roommate do anything other than sleep, eat your food, or read books made from at least 20 trees?). You try to slyly get a snack from your mini fridge while looking over her shoulder to confirm your suspicions. 

She’s busted. And watching your favorite episode. You stop trying to hide and silently mouth the dialogue by heart when she notices your reflection in the screen. 

“Need something, Darlin’?” she doesn’t even turn around. 

“No. I just… I was getting a snack and I saw.. It’s my favorite episode.. Never mind,” you go from alibi to incoherent mumbling within a few seconds. 

“You could just ask to watch with me. You know better than most that this bed fits two comfortably.”

Your thoughts are quickly piling up; from overwhelming embarrassment of actually acknowledging the night you slept with your roommate then rapidly detouring to the really exciting prospect of having a ‘Buffy’ binge buddy. You kind of do need to be distracted from your 10 page term paper, which you are totally ahead on, by the way.

She pulls the covers back and scoots over, and you crawl in next to her. You pull the sheet back up as she balances the computer on your laps. She unplugs her headphones and presses play. 

You wake up in complete darkness, except for the tiny glow of the closed laptop on the floor. Carmilla is tucked in comfortably behind you, her back lined up perfectly with your back. And she is so damn warm. It seems a shame to go all the way back to your cold bed at this hour. 

So you stay.

\---------------------------------------------

You accept that your little charade of using your roommate as a heat source in your woefully under-heated dorm room is coming to an end when you reach the final season of ‘Buffy’ and you won’t have a reason to crawl into Carmilla’s bed and fall asleep “on accident” — an accident that has occurred every night for the past week. You wonder if you could casually mention a new show to watch, maybe something like Dr. Who (26 seasons? Yes, please). 

The first night after you complete the ‘Buffy’ finale, you try to focus on your paper while your eyes droop at your desk. You catch yourself falling asleep with your chin resting precariously on your hand, your head dropping only to snap back at the last minute. 

“You’re going to give yourself whiplash,” you hear from behind you.

You glance over and find Carmilla in bed with the oldest, most pretentious book yet gracing her lap.

“Let’s not act like you’re not just going to end up over here anyway,” she purrs, patting the empty spot beside her. “Besides, I don’t need to buy a down comforter when I have a free, in-house heater.”

She’s so irritating, thinking you would just fall into her bed and use your shared body heat for warmth.

Irritating and right.

\---------------------------------------------

It’s frightening how soon your new sleeping arrangement becomes a routine. Carmilla brushes her teeth first, crawling into bed to read, while you brush your teeth then stumble in after her. She starts on her side, back facing you, while you mirror her position so neither of you are touching or anywhere resembling cuddling. You say a quick goodnight and reach up to turn off the lamp. She grunts intelligible noises. 

Then somehow, your bodies betray you and start moving closer and closer together (it must’ve been the night of the first cold front) until pretty soon you wake up completely encased in Carmilla’s arms, legs entwined with yours. 

You don’t mention it the morning after. Or the next. 

\---------------------------------------------

On the weekends you don’t set your alarm; no jumping right out of bed and into the frantic gathering of clothing and searches for reports.

You wake up slowly, consciousness coming upon you like warm sun streaming into the room in the early morning. 

You don’t know how it started but on this particular morning, you were stretching while Carmilla dozed with her face smashed into her pillow next to you, arms splayed out above her head (you always wondered how she could breathe in that position), when you accidentally grazed the skin on her upper arm. You hear her snort. 

You perceive now that your roommate — bad-ass, girl-chasing, tight leather pants-wearing, pompous book-reading Carmilla — is extremely ticklish. Even in her sleep. You decide to use this information for evil as soon as the opportunity presents itself. Turns out, opportunities abound if you really want them to.

You know you should get out of bed, you really do, but watching Carmilla wake up is like watching Rip Van Winkle come out of a slumber. First, her nose twitches ever so slightly, then her tongue darts out to wet lips just before her eyes blink open a few times as if to test the waters. You take the moment when you know she will be running her hand through her hair (she is so predictable) to lightly tickle your fingertips across her ribs with both hands. She lets out a yelp and then a giggle and then an all out huffing laughter.

“Laura, I swear to god —“ she pauses to let out an angry laugh (only Carmilla could make a laugh sound angry, you muse). “If you don’t stop right this second—“ and then you are being flipped onto your back, Carmilla’s hands on your wrists, effectively pinning you down with her whole body, which now includes her legs, entangled with yours.

You’re completely still, not wanting to lose the warm pressure of her body meeting yours inch for inch, fronts pressed together, her inner thigh making some kind of delicious pressure that you would love to explore more, but no, Carmilla’s your roommate, not fuck buddy. 

You summon all of your self control and roll out from under her, and is it your imagination or did you hear a frustrated huff from behind you? You don’t have time to think about it, gathering your clothes and towel for another on of your ritual cold showers. So maybe you had stealthily ordered a discreet, waterproof vibrator with your “for emergencies only” credit card. Because lord knows these last few weeks of being sexually frustrated, paired with never having “alone time” had turned you into a tiny terror which was a damn emergency. And finding quality “alone time” has been, ahem, difficult what with sharing a bed with the reason for your purchase.

You enter the bathroom, locking the door securely behind you. Yes, you have had to change the batteries in your new toy twice already, and yes, you’ve had days where you have showered multiple times, but no, you do not want Carmilla to know you’re masturbating all the time now, fantasizing about her hands and lips all over your body. You know that smug grin would likely never disappear from her damn face. 

\---------------------------------------------

You obviously don’t acknowledge the weird energy surrounding the earlier tickling/wrestling/almost dry humping when you crawl into her bed later that night. You wonder what will happen when Spring arrives as you drift off to sleep.

\---------------------------------------------

You’ve almost forgotten the incident-that-shall-not-be-named, falling back into your comfortable schedule when you wake up one weekend in your usual spooning position (Carmilla loves to be the little spoon, a fact that you would love to share with the world if not for the fact that A) she would murder you and B) you haven’t told anyone about your little arrangement), but this time your hand has landed squarely between Carmilla’s legs, lightly resting over her tiny, thin sleep shorts that you’re surprised she even bothers to pull on at night.

She is damp and warm. 

You’re contemplating how to extricate your hand with as little awkwardness as possible (maybe she doesn’t suspect you’re awake?) when you hear her mumble, “Find anything you like, Sweetheart?”

You yank your hand away as if you were burned by a blowtorch and dumbly blurt out, “You’re wet.”

Jesus, Hollis. Filter for christ’s sake. 

“Cutie, even I’m not immune to a gorgeous woman crawling into my bed every night.”

You jump out of bed, suddenly extremely engrossed with getting dressed. You grab your backpack and run out the door, forgetting to say goodbye. You let her words roll around in your head. Carmilla called you gorgeous, and she was clearly turned on by your presence in her bed. And you bolted. 

You push the the thoughts away, and instead try to think of how you can occupy yourself forever. Change roommates. Transfer universities. 

\---------------------------------------------

You’ve outworn your welcome on all of your friends’ couches and floors, and you’re honestly kind of tired of darting into your room when you know Carmilla is in class to take hurried showers (pleasure free, unfortunately) and grab a change of clothes when you decide that enough is enough. You need to handle this (extremely attractive) problem once and for all. 

You march into your shared room and deposit your bag on your bed which, over the course of the past month has actually just turned into another shelf for your clothes (might as well get some use out of it).

Carmilla is in her bed, reading by lamplight and barely looks up when you enter. 

“Carmilla, we have to talk.”

“Do we, Cupcake?”

“Yes. About the other day.”

She sighs and puts her book down, an expression you’ve never seen overtaking her face. 

“Look, I’m ludicrously attracted to you, and maybe you are a little attracted to me, I don’t want to speak for you or anything. But anyway, I just say want to say that, I wanted to.. like…” you’re babbling and searching for the words while looking everywhere but at Carmilla. You finally blurt out, “I want to do stuff with you but I’m not that experienced, okay? I didn’t want it to suck and I know you’re kind of like an expert and I probably wouldn’t be that great so I didn’t.”

And that’s it, you can die now. 

“You finished with your speech, Sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you squeak out.

“Okay, two things. One, I am not just a little attracted to you. You could say I’m ludicrously attracted to you, also. And two, we don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. You tell me what you want, and I’m there. If you don’t want anything, that’s fine too.”

Suddenly you can breathe again. 

“Laura?”

“Yeah?” you manage.

“Please, don’t disappear on me again,” she says softly. “I was worried. Talking to me isn’t that hard, is it?”

“Nope, not as bad as that time with the chore wheel,” you grin. “At least this time there wasn’t a fire.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she pouts.

You suddenly have the urge to kiss her pout away, when she notices you staring at her lips. 

“C’mere,” she whispers, making room for you in her bed.

You crawl in, abruptly feeling the exhaustion of the previous days’ emotions overtaking you. She reaches up to turn off the lamp and covers you with the comforter.

You suddenly become very brave in the dark. “Carmilla?” you whisper.

“Yes, Sweetheart?”

“Can you show me?”

“Show you what, Cutie?”

“How you—“ the words dying in your mouth. They always said actions speak louder than words. You grab her hand in yours and slowly lead it under the waist band of her sweatpants, your woven fingertips reaching the top of her underwear. 

“Oh,” she breathes out. “Okay.”

She gently guides your fingers under the fabric, looking to you for an affirmative. You don’t know how you could ever say no to her (a thought you are determined to come back to later) and nod once.

She expertly traces your fingers down over slick wetness, gathering her arousal to coat your fingertips, bringing them back over her clit. She watches you very closely and when she knows you are okay (so much more than okay), she rubs slow circles over her clit, her head no longer turned to you but forced into your (now shared) pillow, eyes clamped shut, low moans escaping her lips. Damn, her lips. You’re along for the ride, totally immersed in watching her unfold before you, her hips rolling in time to your gliding fingers, coming up to meet every downward stroke. She suddenly opens her eyes, you can see dilated pupils even beneath her hooded gaze. 

“Laura, can you do something for me?” she pants out.

You want to scream out ‘Yes! Anything! Always!’ but you blurt out a quick “Sure.”

“Can you kiss my neck?”

Can you ever. She hasn’t stopped rocking her hips or moving your fingers and you lean forward to pepper soft kisses to the skin exposed to you. You realize that while you knew that she was soft everywhere, her neck is exceptionally so and you are excited at the prospect of mapping out every millimeter of her skin. Soon. 

You wonder if she’d murder you over a hickey and experimentally drag your teeth over her beating vein. When she lets out a ragged moan, you know you’re headed in the right direction and continue the exploration of her skin, tracing your tongue down the expanse of exposed perfection, licking and nipping until you reach the juncture of her neck and collarbone, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to have more of her skin available to you. You’re propped up on your left elbow, your right hand shoved down your roommate’s pants and you are suddenly aware that you need to see more of her; you need to watch her come undone beneath her. You gently maneuver yourself to your knees, straddling either side of Carmilla, careful not to break the perfect pressure you are applying to her clit when she opens her eyes, a look of total lust overtaking her perfect features. 

You use your free hand to trace the perfect curve of her jawline, anchoring your fingers, running the pad of your thumb over her lips. She watches you with an intensity unmatched in human history. You wonder if she knows how beautiful she is when she’s writhing in pleasure, little whimpers escaping with each slip of your fingers. You lean down into her, your eyes focussed on her parted lips when you feel her arch her back and let out a scream of ecstasy followed by several gasps for air and then she stills beneath you. 

She relaxes with a look of equal parts pure joy and exhaustion plastered to her face, and when her eyes are finally able to focus on you examining and hovering above her, she grins (honest to god grins; you’ll plan your congratulatory party later) and tucks your hair behind your ear. You’re positive that this is the most intimate thing she’s ever done with you, even after the cuddling and sex. And you comprehend that you’ve never kissed her. Of course, realization dawning upon you, this is probably how she is with all the girls. 

“Hey,” she says, pulling you out of your thought spiral.

“Hey yourself,” you volley.

She grins and asks, “Your turn, Creampuff?” You don’t know how she manages to go from satiated to horny in 10 seconds flat, but that thought is completely erased by the burning of your cheeks. 

She senses your apprehension and runs the back of her hand over your cheeks to soothe the redness that has taken possession of your face. 

“Hey, no pressure. Just want to make sure you’re not self-combusting over there.”

You suddenly lose all control of yourself (how often must this happen with Carmilla?) and blurt out “I don’t usually in bed. Like, just in the shower lately.” Because, duh, you are usually in bed with her most nights, and you had thought before this exact moment that masturbating in your roommate’s bed would be a terrible idea.

“Are you gonna show or just tell?” she teases you and you’re so annoyed with her cocky attitude and your obsession with proving that she can’t just push your buttons without expecting some resistance, that you grab her hand and lead her to your shared bathroom. 

You grab your vibrator from its case in your toiletries bag, and you gloat a little when Carmilla’s mouth drops open the tiniest bit.

“I thought that was your toothbrush.”

“Thought wrong, Sweetheart,” you rib.

You waste no time turning on the hot water in the shower and beginning to undress. Carmilla is broken from her gaping long enough to lift her shirt over her head and drop her shorts and underwear to the floor in two quick motions. 

You take the lead and step into the stream of warm water, Carmilla quickly on your tail. She closes the shower curtain behind you but keeps her distance, gauging your comfort level. You muster all of your courage and twist the base of the vibrator to turn it on and drag it over your clit. The intensity coupled with your already aroused state overwhelms you, and you brace yourself against the tile wall. You angle the vibrator inside your already wet center and slowly pump in and out when she whispers, “Can I touch you?” You grab her hand, guiding it over your waist to support you as a response. 

“Is this okay?” she whispers as she holds you up with her left arm braced against your waist, right hand raking electricity over your skin. You nod dumbly, completely at a loss for words at the pleasure she gives you.

You’re broken from your silent ecstasy when she whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh god, yes,” you moan out.

She starts at the base of your spine, sloppy, wet kisses making their way up your back to your neck, then you feel her drop to her knees and feel her teeth scrape up the back of your thighs, nipping and sucking over the curve of your ass. You know that you’ve never been worshipped the way that Carmilla worships you, and you decide that you are satisfied with her alone. She’s made her way up your back to your neck, one arm wrapped around you to hold you steady while you slide the vibrator in and out. Her free hand is over your hand, both braced against the wall. She’s moved on to your neck now, licking and sucking every inch of exposed flesh while you moan and whimper with every nip of her teeth. When she sucks your earlobe into her mouth scraping gently with her teeth, you almost orgasm on the spot. Then she whispers, “Laura, baby, come for me” and you lose it completely, a climax shuddering through your body like a tidal wave, screaming in rapture, Carmilla overtaking all of your senses. You are weak and limp but Carmilla has you, gripping you protectively.

You’ve finally come to, realizing she’s loosened her grip somewhat and is gently stroking your back and dusting kisses along your spine. 

“Why haven’t we done that before?” you incredulously question.

“Because I didn’t know you had that in you, Cupcake,” she lets out.

You can’t wait to show her what else you have in store for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the awesome feedback and sticking with this one. Y'all truly are the best. Mild kink ahead.

You wake up slowly, blinking your eyes open, and taking in your previous night’s activities. You’d toweled off quickly and hopped into Carmilla’s bed, practically pulling her in with you (you’d been freezing and you knew she’s the only thing that could keep you warm). You hadn’t bothered dressing, because hey, it’s nothing she hadn’t seen before. But as you wake up, it dawns on you that your shower session did not give you adequate time to admire Carmilla’s naked body. Not like now when she’s sleeping like a cat; sprawled out with a dopey grin on her face. She’s managed to wrap her bottom half with a blanket but is completely uncovered from the waist up. You wonder if it’s pervy to take her in like this, but talk yourself out of embarrassment by reminding yourself that you are appreciating her— like a work of art. You’ve always known she was gorgeous (as she has half the population of the university at her beck and call) but you’d never taken the time to just marvel at her beauty. Those damn cheek bones, her long neck, silky skin, and perfect curves everywhere.

She starts doing that adorable nose twitch thing when she’s about to wake up so you quit your gawking long enough to fold yourself back into her body and she immediately wraps her arms around you.

“Mmm I had the best dream last night,” she mumbles with her sleep-heavy voice.

“Yeah?” you squeak. 

Her only response is to pull you tighter and press a kiss on your shoulder.

You’re wondering what comes next with Carmilla, what with helping each other get off in bed and in the shower. You’re pretty sure she’s not going to get you flowers or take you on a proper date. Hell, she probably has plans to meet with another girl later. You wonder how you’ll fit into her busy schedule of study buddies. And she hasn’t even bothered to kiss you yet. Which is totally fine. But you have been quite, ahem, intimate with each other. What if this was a one time thing? 

“Oh god, I can hear you thinking from over here. Relax, will you?”

“Sorry,” you mutter.

You stop overanalyzing for one time in your life and acknowledge that you want to touch Carmilla over and over again. You want to watch her come undone beneath you and above you, knowing that your fingers and tongue are the cause of her ecstasy. Your impromptu shower session has made you suddenly insatiable. Knowing how Carmilla’s naked body feels against yours is likely the cause.

You gather all of your courage again and turn around so you’re face to face with a still sleepy Carmilla and you kiss her square on the lips. She grins and pulls you closer, which you didn’t think was possible. Your waists are aligned and she has to tangle her legs with yours to pull you in so there is no space between you. She runs her fingertips over your lips, her thumb tracing tiny circles over your cheeks, and gently guides her fingers over the back of your neck and pulls you in for another kiss. She’s soft and tender, and likely the best kisser you’ve had the pleasure of encountering. She’s slowly and methodically teasing you with her mouth; a suck on your lower lip that sends your mind reeling, a nip with her teeth. And when she gently pries open your lips with her tongue, you’re a goner, moaning into her like woman undone. You’ve lost complete control of your body, writhing against her with no embarrassment, groaning when her hands find your ass, willing you closer into her. 

You could kiss her for hours — days even, and are a little upset when she pulls away abruptly. Her eyes are shining brightly and her lips are pink and swollen, as she gently rolls you over onto your back and straddles you. You’re fighting her, wanting to reconnect your lips but she gently nudges you back with her hand on your shoulder. 

“Patience is a virtue,” she grins.

“I am not feeling very virtuous,” you retort.

Any other comebacks wither and die in your mind, as she sinks down to lay kisses down your collarbone, stomach, inner thigh. Watching Carmilla descending down your body has been a very vivid fantasy, but actually experiencing her soft kisses everywhere blows your mind. 

You’ve anchored yourself to the bed by grasping futilely to the sheets, and when she ascends to your breasts, and lays claim to them with her tongue, tracing feather light circles over your nipples. You hate that she’s teasing you. You are groaning with a mixture of frustration and anticipation, pushing forward to get more contact from that perfect tongue. As you push forward, her nipple makes contact with your clit and you practically scream at what the light pressure does to you. She notices (you hate how she knows you so well) and dips down once more to drag her breast over your center. The contrast of her soft skin raking over your clit, followed by her nipple roughly catching flips a switch inside you and you’re letting out ragged pants, desperate to finally have a release from the arousal Carmilla has built up.

“Can you come like this?” she’s dipping again and again, watching you closely as you try to maintain eye contact while she fucks you senseless.

You give up trying to tell her with words that yes, she is the best fuck you’ve ever had, and yes, you love the sight of her bracing herself with both arms and rocking herself over you when the best orgasm of your life rips through you, starting in your clit and rocking you all the way down through your limbs, aftershocks riding waves through your body. 

You’re spent and exhausted, when you feel her climb up your body and nestle herself into your limp body and pull the sheets up to cover your melded forms.

\---------------------------------------------

After a blissful moments of your post-sex cuddling (who knew she had it in her?), you realize that you still need to feel and taste every inch of Carmilla. She’s perfectly aligned in her favorite little spoon position, and you trail your fingertips lightly over her arms, up her shoulders, and dip them to lightly tease at her breast (good god, the power of those alone). 

She’s pushing her body back into you, her ass rubbing back into your center and you’re determined not to let her distract you from your goal. 

You gently slide your hand further down, reaching the apex of her thigh and waist, pausing to press a kiss to her neck, reminded by her labored breathing of how sensitive she is when she’s turned on. 

Your hand descends to her clit and you mirror your first time together, this time without the help of her hand guiding you. Her back is pressed into you, and she’s grinding against your fingertips at the same time her ass is rubbing into you with every up and down motion. You almost lose focus, but hold it together well enough to lick the length of her neck and capture her ear in your teeth, sucking and pulling when she lets out a long moan. She’s close and you know it, her eyes clamped shut, her body desperately rucking against your hand, her little gasps punctuated by high pitched screams when you speed up and she reaches behind her to grab your ass, climaxing while simultaneously pulling you against her. She shudders and lies completely still when you extricate your hand and lick off every ounce of her arousal from your fingertips. She tastes sweet and heady, like honeysuckle. 

You’ve barely had time to register that 1) you just fucked your roommate and 2) your roommate is Carmilla, when she rolls over to face you.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” she whispers, pausing to run her knuckles over your cheeks. You laugh, thinking about how this woman whose cheekbones were likely sculpted by the gods themselves, thinks that you’re gorgeous. You’re not sure why, but you find this endlessly amusing. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re in a post-orgasm daze,” you giggle. 

“No, I just happen to have very good taste,” she tells you.

You wonder if her cavalcade of study buddies has ever seen her like this, so open and vulnerable.

“Hey where’d you go? Come back to me,” she whispers as she smooths your hair. “You think entirely too much for your own good.”

“Would you rather I not think?”

“If it gets me sex like that, then unequivocally yes.”

You decide to forget about the other girls for a moment. For now, you know the only way to get Carmilla to stop sassing you is with your mouth. So you shut her up.

\---------------------------------------------

Your sleeping arrangement is actually made easier with the endless amount of sex you have with Carmilla. There’s no awkward dancing around each other at bedtime, just a usual fucking until exhaustion and falling into each other’s arms. 

You’re getting to know every sensitive spot on her body (the nook of her elbow, the hollow a the base of her spine), where she loves to be touched as she comes (her perfect ass), how many fingers and how much pressure to apply to turn her into a cursing, moaning wreck (three, with light stroking against her g-spot). 

She knows you too, like the back of her hand. She can tell when you’re over-thinking and brings you back to her gaze with a simple touch of her hand to your face, when you’re too exhausted for another round of mindblowing sex and need to fall into her protective grip and sleep, how to draw out your orgasm for longer than you’ve ever experienced. 

It’s odd really, to think that you are having the best sex of your life with the girl who annoyed you for so long. You wish you would have given her a chance earlier. 

\---------------------------------------------

You get home from your last class of the semester, excited about the prospect of nearly a month with nothing to do but watch trashy TV in your PJs and hang out with Carmilla. You’ve been neglecting her the past few weeks, the whirlwind of exams and parties filling your schedule so much that you haven’t had sex in more than a week. You open your door to find Carmilla sitting on the bed, clearly waiting for you.

You think something is off by the way she is nervously fidgeting and your heart sinks. Here it comes — the break up speech. You’re mentally wondering how this will work; will you need to apply for a new room? Most administrative offices are closed for the break. What horrible timing.

“Hey, Cutie,” she says, breaking you out of your inner agony.

“Hey yourself,” you manage.

“Um, I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere with me. Like, not right now. But maybe later?”

This is unexpected.

“Where?” you question.

“Uh, just there’s this woman-run sex toy shop in town and I thought we could pick something out. Like, maybe an early Christmas present. I just thought you liked your other, uh, toy so much, maybe we could get one to use together? And, we haven’t been… ” she is nervously toying with the hem of her shirt, and god, insecure Carmilla is so fucking cute. You bridge the space between you in three quick steps and grab her hand, effectively stopping her absent twitching, and give them a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’m so sorry about the past few weeks. I’ve been swamped with school and everything has been crazy. But I’m totally free now. I’m all yours.” You do that trick that she does that always works on you, using your fingers to gently guide her chin up so she has to look directly into your eyes. 

“I am going to be such a good girl—“ you trail off, abruptly stopping the accidentally ’girlfriend’ slip. “I’m going to be such a good fuck buddy,” you clarify. “I will be so on it. You’re going to get so sick of me, I swear.”

“I count on it.” She’s grinning now, the insecurity melting away and her smug smirk plastered back on her face. 

“So, about this sex toy shop…” you wonder aloud.

\---------------------------------------------

You feel like you should give Carmilla a reward for finding the most sex positive store in all of Styria. After the initial bashfulness had worn off, you’d spent 45 minutes wandering around the store with Carmilla, who immediately turned into a horny kid in a candy shop, oohing and ahhing over each new discovery. 

You’re examining a toy that caught your eye, when she sneaks up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist, peering over your shoulder at your pick. 

“Oh, that could be fun. Waterproof and sparkly. I know how glitter is a requirement for you,” she teases.

“Well what do you want?” you huff. Glitter was not a requirement, just an added bonus.

She gestures to a wall display of fake phalluses with every imaginable size, shape, and color and points to a particularly purple L-shaped model. 

“It’s double ended, so one of us wears it while the other receives. So we can both.. uh, you know. At the same time. And it vibrates.”

You’re sold. You grab her and the toy and race to the register.

\---------------------------------------------

After the hurried walk home, you open your door and throw your purchase on the bed, looking frantically for the scissors to free your new purchase.

Carmilla is smirking visibly, watching you fumble the package open and the glint in her eye is unmistakable. 

“Do you want to give or receive?” she asks casually.

“Hadn’t gotten that far,” you reply breathlessly.

“Hey, hey, slow down,” she grabs your wrists and steadies you with a quick peck on the lips. “Let’s just take it easy, and go slow.”

You melt into her (you’re so predictable) and relax as she kisses you softly. She’s refocusing you with gentle kisses while she unbuttons your pants, sliding them down your legs and leading you forward to step out of them. She makes quick work of your jacket and shirt and discards the rest of her clothing somewhere on the floor. She grabs the toy and shuffles backwards with you in tow so that she’s sitting on the bed, beckoning you closer. She lies back on the cushion of pillows and pulls you on top of her.

“C’mere,” she says, guiding your hips forward, up over her chest, up higher still so that you realize that she wants you from below. And Carmilla always gets what she wants.

You’re a little breathless when she strokes her tongue along your entrance and buck forward unintentionally, bracing yourself on the headboard. You’re slipping and sliding along her tongue, when you feel a low vibration from beneath you. Carmilla is moaning loudly against your clit, the vibrations traveling from between your legs to the base of your spine. You open your eyes long enough to see that she’s managed to wrap one hand around your waist to steady you and the other hand is between her own legs, rubbing circles around her clit. The sight alone nearly makes you come on the spot, and you lean forward ready to climax when Carmilla stops, and the absence of her tongue alone drags a ragged moan from your lips. 

You’ve barely opened your eyes to figure out why she stopped when you feel her behind you, hooking her arm around your waist to pull your ass up in the air toward her. You look behind you and see that she’s slipped the toy inside herself and is guiding the other end into your very wet center. 

She begins with slow, methodical thrusts, gauging your comfort, watching you closely. You’re adjusting to the new feeling of Carmilla filling you and both of her arms protectively wrapped around you while she’s fucking you. Her gentle rocking turns into a faster paced thrusting and you’re completely enamored with the feeling of her inside of you. You reach behind you to grab her ass and pull her closer, wanting to be completely filled by her. The toy is filling you to the hilt, and she stops thrusting to rock into you gently, each forward movement sending a jolt through you. The pressure is incredible, but you want more of her inside and drop your hands from their grip on the headboard to lean completely forward, arms braced on the mattress, ass in the air. 

You hear Carmilla’s groans from behind you and you know she’s close. She is giving a few final thrusts as she comes, and you swear you can feel the clenching of her walls vibrating through the toy and into you, and you come immediately. 

She’s balanced precariously over your body as she gently slips the toy out of you and removes it from herself, tossing it to the foot of the bed.

You will be sore tomorrow, another but different throbbing between your legs that will remind you of Carmilla 

She collapses beside you and pulls you in for your ritual cuddling, this time with you cradled into her nook of her shoulder and arm. She’s running her fingertips over your back absently, and you know that you’ll pass out soon, totally spent.

You’re exhausted mind gets away from you and you vocalize a tiny insecurity, mumbling, “Are you going to use our— I mean — your toy with any other girls? I mean it’s cool if you do, I was just wondering… Like safety first, y’know?”

She freezes, her hand stopping it’s course over your back.

“What other girls? There haven’t been any other girls since..” she trails off. “For a while,” she clarifies. “Why? Did you want to borrow it for your study buddies?”

You lightly smack her arm and cuddle closer. “No. You know there’s no one else.”

You tuck into her and fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

You’re halfway through your winter break, which, if you’re totally honest, has consisted of mainly of Carmilla (Carmilla undressing you, Carmilla riding you, Carmilla holding you like a life preserver every night as you fall asleep), when you hear a hurried knocking at the door. You open the door to find LaF, and you’re almost worried it’s another one of their alternative fire alarms (they have a way of emptying the dorms rather quickly by knocking rapidly on each door of the hall and yelling ‘Science experiment gone wrong! Run now, ask questions later!’) You instinctively move to grab Carmilla’s wrist to lead her out of the dorm (your first save in a burning building scenario? Push that aside for much later) but LaF bursts in and shuts the door behind them.

“Laura, break is almost over. I haven’t seen or heard from you in 10 days. As far as I know you haven’t left this room. What gives?”

Your furious blushing kicks into overdrive when you see Carmilla’s smirk out of the corner of your eye.

“I, uh, have been working on my, uh, journalism project for next semester,” you stammer weakly.

Carmilla snorts, and mutters something that sounds vaguely like, “Don’t recall being asked to be curriculum.”

Luckily, LaF doesn’t catch it and presses on. “I mean you’ve got to get out of your room for fresh air or sun or groceries, right? You can’t work all the time.”

Fair to say that no, you haven’t come up for air, or sun, or groceries. You’ve lived off cookies, popcorn, and Carmilla for more than a week and you feel great.

LaF’s not having it, and is thrusting a brightly colored flier in your face.

“Look, there’s a Queer Single Mingle at Samson Hall tonight. You should come. You were just complaining to me at the beginning of the semester about not being able to meet girls. I mean, seriously, when’s the last time you’ve been on a date?”

You’re avoiding eye contact and mutter, “I guess it’s been a while.” You manage to catch Carmilla watching you out of the corner of her eye, and you know your face has turned into a tiny inferno.

“Yeah, try more than a year. Your dry spell might even be over if you would just get out of this room. You can even bring Carmilla, if she promises to behave herself,” they shrug at Carmilla’s scoff. “It’s Perry’s last event of the year and I kind of want it to go smoothly. So she doesn’t have an aneurysm.”

“I’m sure your interest is just a show of friendly support for your very special friend,” Carmilla drawls, seemingly taking joy in the matching bright red hue LaF has suddenly been overcome with.

“On second thought, don’t bring Carmilla,” LaF calls while quickly darting out the door and slamming it securely shut behind them.

\---------------------------------------------

You end up going to the poorly named Single Mingle with Carmilla in tow, after guiltily admitting to yourself that you should show some support for Perry and LaF, after basically ignoring them both the entire winter break.

You also end up regretting the decision within 30 seconds of arrival. While LaF greets you by the perfectly arranged dessert and drink table, you notice a swarm of girls closing in on Carmilla, who happens to pull off the bored yet sexy look perfectly in her tight leather ensemble.

It’s probably best to ignore your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Carmilla basically ignoring as each of her new suitors tries to capture her attention. Your focus is diverted, however, when Perry excitedly ushers you to a small table and slaps a name tag on you. You barely have enough time to make out the “Laura, Investi-gay-tor” in loopy script, before the lights dim, and the most awkward round of lesbian speed dating commences. Apparently, you’ve become an eligible bachelorette, along with the other bachelorettes seated against the wall. And to your surprise, Perry has managed to wrangle Carmilla into a seat. And plaster an adorable name tag that reads “Grumpy Cat-milla” to her shirt. The death stare Perry gamely ignores is hilarious, but also, you think, potentially life threatening.

Before you can warn Perry of her impending doom, the lights dim, and girls circulate from table to table in 30 second increments. You would love to know more about Sarah, the perky PoliSci major who is giving her interpretation of what true happiness is, but your eyes wander to a gorgeous brunette who has managed to move her chair directly beside Carmilla’s and is suggestively rubbing her thigh against Carmilla’s leg.

Luckily, the timer sounds, and you smile weakly at, was it Sasha? as she leaves and brace yourself for the next agonizing 15 minutes. You promise yourself that you won’t size up Carmilla’s prospects; she should be able to see whomever she wants, your arrangement isn’t permanent, exclusive, or even _acknowledged_.

You manage to ignore Carmilla’s progress the entire night, and subsequently the twisting in your gut subsides to a minor ache when you feel the familiar warmth sidle next to you and your body glows with a warm flush.

“Hey, Creampuff. Have a good night?”

You can’t deny that her voice sends a delighted rush of blood throughout your veins, but you manage to hold it together long enough to respond.

“Not so much. What about you, taking anyone home tonight?” you reply with what you hope is a detached coolness.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” she grins.

“Oh okay,” you hope your voice doesn’t betray your disappointment as your stomach falls. “I’ll call Danny and see if I can crash at the Summer Society house tonight.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” she smirks, and grabs you by your belt loop and drags you toward the exit.

——————————————————————

You’ve barely managed to make it to your dorm with your hands to yourself, and it’s really a stretch to keep them still any longer as Carmilla fumbles for her key. The realization that Carmilla could have had any girl in a 50 foot radius (and beyond, most likely) and chose _you_ has ignited a confidence in you that you didn’t know existed.

You’re openly running your hands under her shirt to run along her smooth back, inching forward to gently skim along the undersides of her breasts, when she finally manages to get the door open and pull you inside, huffing out “Jesus, Laura.”

You smirk at her and push her against the door, effectively slamming it shut. The look that flashes through her eyes appears to match your own: one part white hot lust, and one part pure adoration.

You’re frantically removing every barrier to skin, while managing to nip then soothe small patches of bare skin in the process. Carmilla is letting you take the lead, and is melting into your touch.

When you’ve managed to get each other down to just your bra and panties, she smirks and pulls you close, slipping a finger down the front of your underwear, a low and dangerous, “You get so wet for me, baby,” doing ungodly things to your control.

 _Only you. Always you. Forever_ flashes through your mind but you manage a garbled “mmmmgah,” which you know is not a response, but you can barely form words with her little gasps coming hot and fast against your neck.

You’ve never been prouder of your knees for not buckling at every moan she’s purposely, pornographically directing into your ear, and propel yourself toward the bed, effectively pinning her against the mattress and rocking you both in a mess of limbs and friction.

You manage to spin her around, extricating her hand from your underwear in the process. She has her forearms pressed against the mattress, bent over with her ass jutting toward you as she turns her head and smirks. You press your knee between her thighs, pushing her legs wider apart, and her head drops as your knee brushes against her wetness.

Your hand runs up her spine, expertly undoing the clasp of her bra, letting it fall to the bed. You scratch your nails along their trail as they stop at the base of her neck, gently but firmly running your fingers along her scalp, through her hair, capturing just enough to tug her head back to bring her ear right to your mouth.

“Do you want me to fuck you like this, Carm?”

You almost lose your resolve at the guttural moan she lets out, and she pants out a quick, “Yes, god, yes, Laura, please.”

You decide you love when she’s begging you, and decide to tease her as long as your self control will allow you.

“Like this, baby? Bent over our bed with your ass in the air?” You punctuate your last remark with a quick slap on her ass.

“Please, baby, fuck me, Laura, please.”

You drag your nails over the quickly blooming red mark your hand made, and slide your leg between hers, dragging it slowly back and forth, letting it catch on the lace of her panties, letting the friction tease Carmilla into a panting wreck.

“Do you like how I can fuck you like this? How I can have you screaming my name? How you’re not even naked and I’m fucking you senseless?”

“Oh my god, baby, yes. Laura, please,” she’s whining now, you can tell she’s frustrated and rocking back onto you with as much strength as she can muster.

You decide she’s played along enough and gently pull her head back. You whisper, “You’ve been such a good girl, Carm. I’m going to fuck you now, would you like that?”

She nods enthusiastically.

“I can’t hear you. What’s that?”

“Yes, Laura, please, baby, yes, yes, yes.”

You push her forward, so her upper body is braced on the mattress, her legs are spread, and her ass is in the air, and you move the lace of her thong to the side and gently slip two fingers inside. She’s soaked. You slide into her gently as she moves back into you with such force that you pick up your pace. She’s eagerly thrusting against your hand and you manage to land few solid slaps against her ass, when she comes with a loud scream of “Laura!” You’ve never been more turned on by the sound of your own name.

You both collapse and you use the last of your strength to crawl into bed and pull her close against you, Carmilla’s screams forever embedded in your memory.

\---------------------------------------------

You’ve managed to end up in with your head cradled in Carmilla’s lap, while she plays with your hair, leaning against the headboard. It’s a combination of your satisfaction and the warm tingling of her fingers against your scalp when the question that’s been bugging you pops out.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend, Carm?”

Her fingers still and you freeze. You’re kicking yourself internally when she slowly drawls out, “Suppose I’m not girlfriend material, Cupcake.”

“Oh my god, Carm you totally are. You’re so sweet and thoughtful. And sexy. Don’t forget sexy.”

You know you’re blushing, but you don’t care. Carmilla needs to know how amazing she is, and you’re not sure you’ve made it clear enough when you’re not nakedly rubbing against her.

“Well what about you? Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

You think about it for a few seconds and respond. “I guess it’s the same for me. No one thinks of me as their girlfriend. I mean, most girls I’m into think of me as a friend. Or like with you, I’m like your fuck buddy place holder ’till another girl comes around. Which is totally fine. I think it’s been mutually beneficial.”

“That’s not what you are to me…” she trails off.

Desperate to end this conversation, you blurt out, “Well, anyway, I’m glad you don’t have a girlfriend, ‘cause I don’t want to share you just yet.”

“Neither do I,” she whispers and leans down to press a kiss on your forehead.

\---------------------------------------------

You admit that the intensity of your daily sex has diminished somewhat recently, and that Carmilla’s been distracted for the past few days. You know it probably has something to do with the girlfriend talk. She seems cagey when you are together. It’s something you can’t quite put your finger on but she bolted from the room the past two times you’ve seen her, and you barely caught a fleeting kiss as she exited hurriedly.

If you’re honest you know what’s going on, but you’re in denial. You know your girlfriend question freaked her out; she could see right through you. She knows that you were just fishing for some kind of answer to what your little arrangement was, or what it could be. You know in her panic she’s probably started seeing someone new and doesn’t want to break it to you. It’s a classic move; she’ll just avoid you until you catch on. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re a little heartbroken that she couldn’t just tell you outright, but know talking about her feelings is definitely not Carmilla’s best skill.

But you stay strong; you know you can’t have Carmilla forever and when your eyes well up thinking about losing her to some gorgeous co-ed, you remind yourself that you have been preparing for this. _Carmilla is not yours_.

Sure the daily sex, cuddling, and whispers of affection have been a little misleading to your heart, but you knew what you were getting into when you started sleeping with your very popular roommate.

You’ve managed to keep yourself out of the room and occupied and are a little surprised when you swing open the door to find a blanket spread out on the floor with Carmilla sitting squarely in the center.

She’s fidgeting nervously, surrounded by your repurposed popcorn bowl filled with ice and a fancy bottle of champagne, two mugs, a few Chinese to go boxes, and cookies from your favorite bakery. She must’ve bought every candle from the surrounding stores, and your room is illuminated by a warm glow.

“Welcome home, Cupcake,” she murmurs, and you’re really, really confused.

You’re frozen in place trying to put the pieces together. Maybe Carmilla’s fuck buddy break up involves letting you down easy with a picnic?

“Hey, what’s up?” you manage to squeak out.

She pats the empty space next to her and you dumbly plop down.

“I just, uh, I overheard you talking to Ginger One about, um, not having been on a date in more than a year, and I just, I mean, I know I can’t take you to dinner without the Ginger Squad giving you hell, and I just… I wanted to bring dinner to you. Since we, uh, never get to go—“

You cut her off with a kiss. Your adorable, insecure roommate has not been avoiding you for a week, she’s just been trying to plan a surprise romantic date for you. And you’re near tears when you realize how charming and sweet she is.

She pulls back, and whispers, “Is it lame? I just, I mean, I know it’s not much—“ and you shut her up with another kiss, this time pulling her close and whispering, “It’s perfect, Carm. You’re perfect.”

She grins, and reaches to open the champagne.

\---------------------------------------------

Needless to say, planning a surprise romantic dinner in your room, then feeding you sweets, does wonders for your libido. Carmilla has you naked and on your back in no time. She’s managed to get your legs around her waist as she uses your favorite move; lightly circling your clit with her thumb while she strokes two fingers against your g-spot.

She knows it takes you less than 5 minutes in this position to achieve the most intense orgasm, and she’s watching you closely.

“Don’t come yet,” she demands, her voice low and husky.

“Carm, I’m so close,” you whimper.

“Do you trust me?” she asks.

 _Always_ flashes through your mind but you manage to stop your mouth and nod instead.

She stills her hand and presses reassuring kisses along your neck, whispering again, “Trust me?”

You manage to keep eye contact long enough to gasp a desperate “God, yes. I trust you.”

She begins slowly stroking, the pulsing of her fingertips sending electric pulses from her fingers throughout your entire body. Watching her is enough to make you come on the spot, so you screw your eyes closed, focusing instead on the rough friction of fingers gliding inside you.

“Promise not to come until I tell you,” she’s whispering in your ear, and you can barely nod an affirmative.

The soft but firm stroking has intensified, she’s using a pattern of pulses with her fingertips that has you right on the cusp of on orgasm, but you promised to obey her demand, and focus on the feeling of her fingers, instead of trying to release the pressure she’s built up.

After an agonizing few minutes, she brushes your hair out of your face and whispers, “Laura, come for me” and you let out a gasp when she changes her pace and thrusts wildly against you, then the unbelievable warm release when she removes her fingers and you feel the most intense orgasm ever rip through you. She’s moved down your body and is lapping at your cunt and you feel like you’re going to pass out at any moment; the intensity of your orgasm and the warm pressure of her tongue is almost too much.

You fall back into the pillows, with a grinning Carmilla falling into your arms.

“I knew you could do it,” her proud smile plastered across her face.

“Do what?”

“You squirted, Creampuff,” she smirks.

You look down at the soaked sheets and groan.

“Carm, I ruined the sheets!”

She laughs and pulls you tight.

“But it was worth it, right?”

You won’t acknowledge that yes, it was very worth it, and nothing compares to her fingers inside of you or her mouth on you and that no one else is good enough; just Carmilla. You ache for her.

You grumble and try to quiet your brain by distracting it with your wandering mouth, hands, and Carmilla’s body.

\---------------------------------------------

“God, have I ever told you that you have the most perfect ass?” Carmilla is in her typical post-sex mode, mapping every inch of your skin with her fingertips, slowly trailing them along every hill and valley, giving special attention to your butt, as if she can’t get enough of the sensation.

“Didn’t take you for an ass woman,” you reply.

“Wasn’t ’til I met you,” she responds.

The woman who has probably hundreds - no thousands- of women on standby is complimenting your derrière. You giggle and snuggle closer, amused that she’s trying to win you over with her compliment.

“What are you laughing at?”

“You. You’re so silly after I fuck you.”

“You can’t take a compliment, Cupcake.”

“I can, I just know that I most definitely do not have the nicest ass you’ve seen. I know you’ve seen at least a million.”

She looks mock offended, and says, “When I say you have the nicest ass I have ever seen, I definitely mean you have the nicest ass I have ever seen. Trust me, Laura Hollis.”

She’s looking directly into your eyes, and the echo of _trust me_ ringing in your ears and the honest, open look she is giving you feels like the words have more weight than she is willing to let on.

You nod quickly and try to convey with your words what you’ve known all along. “I trust you, Carmilla.”

She sighs, a mixture of relief and joy.

“I love how my naive little provincial girl can’t take a compliment,“ she trails off. “No, not mine—“ she awkwardly clarifies.

There’s a brief pause, and Carmilla suddenly finds the edge of the sheet extremely interesting. You grab her hands to still their inspection, and hold them until she looks into your eyes.

“I’m yours if you want me to be.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. I’m yours.”


End file.
